


In Pine Harbor

by der_tanzer



Series: Hitting the Fence [2]
Category: Riptide (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-20
Updated: 2010-05-20
Packaged: 2017-10-09 14:40:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/der_tanzer/pseuds/der_tanzer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Murray makes new friends in rehab.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Flying Blind

**Author's Note:**

> Assumes knowledge of Jerry Jeff Walker, although I mostly listened to Counting Crows while writing. (All this pain gets me high and I get off and you know why.)  
> And thanks again to Catyah, for shaking my confidence and then stabilizing it again. Truly the mark of a brilliant beta

The day Murray left the hospital, no one was with him. He was being transported by helicopter to a rehab center in Santa Monica and his friends thought it was more important to be there to meet him. Cody left at dawn to take the Riptide up the coast to Pine Harbor, where he'd managed to finagle a slip on short notice, and Nick was driving the Jimmy up to save them renting a car. Murray understood, but he didn't like flying without Nick. And no number of flight staff, and there were four, counting the pilot, could make him feel other than alone.

"Are you afraid of flying?" the nurse asked, seeing how his long fingers gripped the side of the gurney.

"Oh, no. Not really. My friend flies a helicopter. It's a lot bigger than this and probably not as safe, but it's really boss. I just—I wish he was flying today."

"Well, we'll be there almost before you know it. You're lucky someone decided to pay for the chopper or you'd be on the freeway all day."

"Someone's paying for this? I didn't think—I guess I assumed the insurance…"

"No, Mr. Bozinsky, I'm afraid not. Insurance wouldn't even pay for the ambulance."

"Then who—that doesn't make sense. We don't have any money."

"I'm afraid I can't help you with that. Is there anything I can do? Are you comfortable? How's your leg?"

"It doesn't hurt too much," he said but his soft eyes were half closed in a way she recognized.

"Not too much? Does that mean not enough to bother you or not enough to kill yourself over?"

He laughed weakly, a far cry from his usual giggle, but there was some of the old Murray-light in his eyes.

"Somewhere in between, I think," he whispered. "Is it possible to do something about it?"

"I'll check." She flipped through his chart swiftly and consulted with the doctor. "It looks like you can have a touch of morphine. Just a little, though. We don't want to take any chances while we're in the air."

"Ah, no. You don't want me to stop breathing, I suppose. Thanks."

"We try to think of everything. I'm going to inject it in the port here so you won't feel a thing, you'll just get sleepy in a few minutes," she smiled.

"Like every two hours in the hospital. I'm shot, not stupid."

"Sorry, Mr. Bozinsky."

"Murray, please."

"Murray Bozinsky?" She turned and looked at the chart again. That was what it said. "Doctor Murray Bozinsky? Well, this is something of an honor. You know we use your—"

He just nodded, already drifting away. The sound of the rotors lulled him, made him feel almost as at home as the sound of lapping waves and the creak of the Riptide's timbers. He slept and dreamed of _Mimi_.

"Are we almost there, Nick?" he murmured. "I want to go to bed. Cody, I don't feel good."

"It's alright, Doctor—Murray. We'll be landing in just a few minutes."

"Who're you?" he asked, squinting through his glasses.

"I'm your nurse, Lynne. Remember?"

"Where's—is Nick flying?"

"You're still asleep, Doctor. Just rest, okay? I'm sure you're friends will be there when we land."

"My stomach hurts."

"What kind of hurt? From nausea or from the incision?"

"Nausea. I think I'm going to throw up. Where's Nick?"

"I'll get the bucket. Who's Nick? Is he your pilot friend?"

"Nick's flying. No, he's driving. That's right. Nick's driving and Cody—Cody's…I don't know. Where's Cody?" He stopped and put his hand over his mouth. When the nurse turned back to him, bucket in hand, he leaned over the edge of the gurney and vomited weakly. Waves of agony rolled through his back and belly, but once he'd started he couldn't stop.

"Let's get him some mec," the doctor said, reaching for the drug box. "He's going to tear his stitches."

"Okay, Murray, we're going to give you a shot now. It's got to go in the muscle, not the vein, and it'll sting a little."

He nodded faintly, still puking so hard he barely felt the needle slide into his hip. But the nausea disappeared in a matter of minutes and he lay back, completely wrung out, while the pretty nurse washed his face. Meclizine always made him sleepy, as did morphine, and he was out again by the time they landed.

Two men were waiting on the helipad, one dark and swarthy, the other fair, and as soon as the door swung open they ran toward the chopper. For a second the nurse was worried, but when she saw their faces she realized that they were more so.

"How is he?" the dark man yelled over the rotor wash. "Boz, you in there?"

"He's sleeping," she said, climbing down from the helicopter. "Which one are you?"

"Nick Ryder. Did he talk your ear off the whole way?"

"Ah, the pilot. No, he didn't talk much but he said a lot. Like that he wished you were flying, even though your helicopter isn't as safe."

"That's our Boz," Cody laughed. "No matter how many times you shoot him, he still tells the truth."

"So that means you're Cody. He asked for you both. He got sick from the morphine and we gave him some Meclizine, so he'll sleep for a while. We'll get him inside and into his room so he can have some quiet."

But the nurse didn't take him. The staff from the center came and wheeled him inside while his friends followed along behind. They wanted to walk beside him, hold his hands and stare at his still face, the only thing on their minds for the last five hours, but neither could do it without breaking down and that wouldn't look right. They would weep over him today, soon, but not until they were alone.

"How was the drive?" Cody asked, to keep their minds off it for a few more minutes.

"Oh, you know, LA freeways. Kept humming Jerry Jeff Walker the whole way."

"_LA Freeway_ or _Redneck Mother_?"

"Both. How was the ocean?"

"Not bad. But I tell you, I didn't like being out there alone. I kept thinking I heard you guys, out on deck or in the salon; it was creepy. But I'm glad we managed to get in a spot in the harbor. It'll be good to go home at night instead of staying in a hotel for however long this takes."

"Yeah. And we gotta keep our word about bringing Murray out to the boat as soon as they let us. He'll really like that."

"Yeah. And maybe the first couple days we ought to see if they'll let one of us stay the night. Help him get settled."

"Sure. But Murray's a good traveler, going to all his lectures and conventions. He spends more time in strange places now than we do."

"True, but he can usually walk. God, I hope this is over soon. I can't stand seeing him so helpless. It's been ten days and I can't get used to it."

"Good. I don't wanna be used to it. The only time I want to see him helpless involves handcuffs and silk scarves."

"Amen, buddy."

They stopped talking at the door and walked the hallway in silence. When a nurse tried to stop them from entering Murray's room, Nick smiled and laid on the charm while Cody stepped around her and through the door. She turned to call him back and Nick followed.

"If you'll just give us a few minutes to put him in bed," she said, trying again to block them.

"You don't have to let us help but we're not going to leave," Nick told her, all his charm vanished. "We'll just stay out of the way."

The nurse tried to argue and someone else told her not to bother.

"We can't evaluate him until he wakes up a little more. Let them stay. Over there, if you don't mind."

Nick thanked their ally, a small woman in a grey sweat suit, but didn't move. Cody grabbed his arm and pulled him back against the wall, out of the way. It swiftly became apparent that the small woman was in charge and the wink she gave Cody made him think she was a friend. A pair of orderlies lifted Murray into the bed and the nurse took out his IV, all under the watchful eye of the woman in the grey sweats.

"Why'd you do that?" Nick asked. She turned around and cocked her eyebrow at him. "The IV. Why'd you take it out?"

"This isn't a hospital, boys. If he can't take oral meds, he doesn't belong here."

"I think I like this place," Cody whispered and she winked again.

"Yeah, but…"

"But what, Nick?"

"I hate to see them be too hard on him. He's such a fragile little guy."

"Sure, but he can swallow. This is a step up, Nick. Let it be."

When he was settled, everyone left except their friend in the grey sweats. She closed the door and told them both to sit down.

"This isn't a hospital," she said again. "Your friend is here for therapy and it's hard work. My name's Eileen and I'll be his therapist. He may well hate me by the time he leaves. But he'll leave on his own two feet and that's all I care about."

"That's nice," Nick said dryly. "I bet they call you Drill Sergeant and I bet you think it's cute."

"Some of them do. I used to work with vets coming home from 'Nam. They loved me no matter how hard I worked them. All they wanted to do was get better. And I bet your friend feels the same, no matter how fragile you think he is."

"Oh, he's fragile, don't worry about that," Cody grinned. "But when he wants something he works harder than anyone I've ever known."

"I'm glad to hear that. Now I'm going to leave you alone for a while, give Mr. Bozinsky a chance to rest, and when I come back we'll start working out his therapy and daily routine."

"Yeah, about that," Cody said, still giving her the benefit of his most charming grin, "how involved are we going to be?"

"As involved as you want to be. But you won't do the work for him; you can't. And if I start to suspect you're trying to, you'll be out of here so fast it won't be funny."

"That sounds fair. Don't you think that's fair, Nick?"

"Sure. Sure, Eileen, whatever you say."

She knew he didn't believe yet, and the other one was only pretending, but it didn't matter. By this time tomorrow all doubts would be long gone.

***

Murray didn't know where he was when he woke, but Nick and Cody were there so it didn't much matter. It looked like they were sleeping, slumped in wooden armchairs, their feet up in each other's laps. Murray smiled to himself, knowing that things were looking up. He was glad to be out of the hospital, glad to be rid of the needles and monitors that made up the background irritation of his days, and not in too much pain. Only his leg really hurt now and he feared the rehab therapy that would surely make it worse before making it better. Rehab. That must be what this was. Yes, he'd flown here. Today, maybe, or yesterday?

"Nick?" he whispered hoarsely. "Nick, how long has it been?"

"Hey, you're awake." He straightened up, rousing Cody by shoving his feet to the floor.

"How long have I been here?" he asked again.

"A couple hours. We met your therapist already. You're gonna love her."

"A girl, huh? Say, guys, can I have some water?"

"Sure. There's got to be some around here somewhere."

"Check the bathroom," Cody yawned. "It's not a hospital, remember? They probably don't just leave it by the bed."

"Right, because the trip up here rendered him suddenly able to walk." Nick found a cup in the bathroom and filled it up. "Here, you want some help?"

"Just sit me up, I can hold it," he said, eager to start drinking. Cody went to his side and helped him upright, steadying him with a hand on his back. Murray took the cup and drank it down in three gulps.

"More?"

"Can it hurt anything?" Nick asked, as if Cody would know.

"Don't look at me. I just don't want to get in trouble with that little drill sergeant."

"Who?"

"Your therapist, Boz. She thinks she's tough. And she might be. Nick's kind of scared of her."

"Funny. You know, if it was you in that bed, I wouldn't get you water."

"Yes you would."

Nick didn't have to admit it. He refilled the cup and Murray drained it again.

"You want to lie down?" Cody asked. Murray shook his head and leaned more into the strong arm that held him.

"I'm not crazy about the sound of that drill sergeant person," he whispered and Nick immediately went to sit on his other side.

"Don't worry, Boz," he said lightly, sliding his arm around Murray's back. "We're not going to let anyone hurt you."

"I know that. And I already like this place better than the hospital. No needles." He rubbed his hand over the bruises from his many IVs and random sticks. "But it's not home."

"No, it isn't," Cody agreed. "But home's right down in the harbor, about fifteen minutes away, and we're going to take you there as soon as we can."

"Thanks, guys. I—I really appreciate all of this so much…" He trailed off, choking a little on the words, and Cody kissed him. He still tasted like Murray, like sweet juicy berries on a summer day, and it took Cody all of five seconds to get lost in him. Nick leaned around and kissed the back of his neck, exposed by the open hospital gown he still wore, and Murray moaned softly between them. It was dangerous and stupid and so much fun that no one was really surprised when they got caught.

"Am I interrupting something, boys?"

Nick and Cody pulled up sharply but didn't let go. Murray looked scared, his face naked and defenseless without his glasses. Nick grabbed them from the table and slipped them on so he could see who to be afraid of.

"Hi, Eileen," Cody said smoothly. "Murray, this is your therapist, Eileen."

"Hello, Murray," she smiled, a teasing light in her eyes. "Is it all right if I call you that? We're going to be working pretty closely together and there's not much room for formality."

"No, no, that's okay. I'm not very—ah—formal," he said, blushing furiously.

"So I see. Would you boys excuse us for a few minutes?"

"No, wait a second," Nick said, standing up but not taking his hand off Murray's back. "What happened to us being as involved as we want to be?"

"Not a thing. But we're not working now, we're getting acquainted, and I like to do that in private. There's a coffee shop down the street."

"Or you could go back to the boat and get my pajamas. I don't have to wear this stupid gown all the time, do I?"

"No, that's a great idea," Eileen said. "We like to see people up and dressed as much as possible. If he has any workout clothes you should bring those, too."

"And maybe my portable computer? I really need to get back online."

"Sure. Anything you want, buddy. Nick, come on. She's not going to drag him out of bed and make him do pushups while we're gone."

"No, we won't be doing pushups until tomorrow," Eileen said cheerfully. Murray's thin face wrinkled in concern and Nick was forced to kiss him lightly on the head.

"Don't you worry, Boz," he whispered. "We've busted you out of more secure places than this." They laid Murray back gently on his pillows and said goodbye, promising to be back within an hour. He watched them go with a longing in his blurry eyes that anyone could see. When the door closed behind them a lot of the life went out of his face and he seemed to sink into the bed.

"It's too early for you to be scared of me," she joked, then saw that he thought she meant it. "Murray, it's okay. You and your friends, I don't care about that. Some people do, and you're right to be cautious, but I'm not one of them. I have a girlfriend myself."

"Oh. Really? That's—that's very interesting."

"No it isn't. Believe me, after we get started on your therapy you won't care about your own personal life, let alone mine."

"Oh. So how do we go about getting to know each other? Is there something we're supposed to be talking about?"

"Well, what are your regular activities? I can't very well get you back to normal without knowing what normal is."

"Oh. Well, I mostly sit in front of my computer for eighteen or nineteen hours a day. But sometimes I have to jump onto speeding boats or shoot at people from a moving helicopter. And once in a while I get to jump from the helicopter into the boat. It varies some from day to day."

"I see. Are you good at that? The jumping and shooting?"

"I'm better at the computer, but I can shoot all right. The jumping is a problem, though. I don't land very well."

"Well, maybe we can work on that, too. But let's start with home. Do you have stairs?"

"All over the place. We live on a house boat."

"Wow, that sounds nice. Is that why your clothes are 'on the boat'?"

"Yes. We live in King Harbor but they got a slip here so they can be close to me. I don't know how they can afford it unless they're going to try and get work. I don't know how we can afford any of this."

"Don't worry about that now. Let's have a look at your leg, shall we?"

Before he could answer, she pulled back the sheet and lifted his gown. The wound was still covered so she couldn't really see how bad it was, but it was clear he'd lost a little muscle. Not that he had much to lose, she thought, running her hands over his thigh.

"What are you going to do to me?"

"Not a thing. You're going to do all the work."

"Great. But I can't do anything even when I'm healthy. I haven't done a pushup since Basic and the only reason they let me pass was they knew I'd never see combat. I'm a desk jockey, a paper soldier."

"I'm not here to make you into an athlete, Murray. My job is to get you back to where you were before you got hurt."

"Oh. Well, get me a desk and a computer and I'm there," he said, forgetting all about the boats and helicopters in his sudden fear.

"Not so fast. I'm going to hold your left foot and I want you to push against me as hard as you can, okay? Try and move my hands." She knelt on the bed, cradling his foot in both hands, and Murray pushed halfheartedly. He knew he didn't have any real power, he'd never been able to kick an opponent the way Cody could, but he still didn't feel right using strength against a girl.

"Come on, you're not trying," she goaded and he put a little more into it. When he couldn't move her hands he considered the physics of the thing and understood that steady pressure wasn't the same as pulling back and kicking. After a few seconds he really got behind it and pushed as hard as he could, as hard as his healing abdominal muscles would allow. Later he would look back on that as his first serious mistake at Pine Harbor.

"Good. That's really good, Murray. That's going to be your baseline. Now let's see what you've got over here." She picked up his right foot, bent his knee slightly, and told him to do it again. Murray pushed against her and screamed.

"That's not so good," she said, putting down his leg and getting off the bed. He took off his glasses and rubbed his hands hard over his face. He didn't know where she was for a minute and he didn't care. It was enough that he managed not to cry. Suddenly he wondered how he could do this with Nick and Cody watching. He must not scream in front of them. They must not know it hurt.

When he put his glasses back on, he saw her standing by the bathroom door, drying her hands on a paper towel.

"That's what we're going to be working on," she said, still chipper. Murray noticed that she didn't pat him, didn't offer comfort or apologies, and was grateful for her professionalism. He decided everyone probably screamed at first and she was used to it.

"Is it always going to hurt that much?" he asked, his voice dry and hoarse.

"At first. Do you want some water?"

He nodded and she brought him a cup. He had to ask her to help him sit up; she didn't assume he couldn't and he liked that. She also didn't lift him like Nick and Cody did. Her hand was strong and supportive but she made him work for it, just a little. There was a twinge in his stomach but it wasn't bad.

"If it doesn't hurt a little, you're not gaining anything," she explained, "you're doing what you can already do easily. You don't want to just do what you can do or you really will end up behind a desk for good. But at the same time you can't work too hard or you'll hurt yourself. Pain is an indicator that's something's wrong and you want to listen to it."

"Yeah, I—I'm not very good with pain. I didn't mean to scream like that, I just—I didn't expect it to hurt that much."

"It's okay. We're not going to work much in your room, this is your safe place, but in the therapy room you'll see that everyone's screaming or crying most of the time. It's a loud and scary place, but everybody's doing the same thing you are, trying to get better."

"Are there a lot of people here? Did they all get shot? Because it seems like it wouldn't happen that much, although it happens to us quite often."

"We have between ten and fifteen patients at a time with all kinds of injuries. Mostly car accidents, but there are a couple of older people who've had strokes, and a very nice young man who broke his back falling off a cliff during a hiking trip. There's also a young man, about your age, who broke his neck trying to hang himself. I think you might like him."

"Oh, yes, I'm sure I will," he said vaguely, his head swimming. "Does he like computers?"

"I believe so. He's always looking for someone to play chess with in the evenings, but he's too good for most of us. He gets bored beating us in five moves."

"I'm sure I can hold him to sixteen," Murray grinned. "It's a shame, though, that he tried to kill himself. Why would a person do a thing like that?"

"I'm sure he'll tell you about it if you ask. You're going to meet everyone tomorrow morning at breakfast. And after that it's therapy until lunch."

"Oh. Oh good. When will my friends be allowed to visit?"

"Different times. You have to interact with the patients and you can't distract them from their work, but other than that…"

"Okay, but that doesn't narrow it down much for me."

"You want a schedule, do you? Okay, breakfast is at eight o'clock sharp. If they want to come before then, they can help you bathe and dress. You'll be eating in the dining room since you're not confined to bed, and we try to limit guests there but I'll say they can come to breakfast tomorrow. After that, it's therapy until noon and lunch at one. After that is free time to watch TV with the gang or stay in your room until dinner at six. If they want to come in then, they're welcome. After dinner is social hour when you're required to be in the living room. That's where you'll watch TV or play chess or whatever you want to do. Everyone has to be back in their rooms by nine and lights go out at ten. If your friends want to say goodnight, they can see you in your room between eight and ten."

"That sounds like a pretty full schedule all right," he said quietly. "I guess it'll give the guys time to work."

"What is it they do, living on a houseboat?"

"We're private investigators. The Riptide Detective Agency. I kind of do my science on the side these days."

"Well, I'm sure they won't have any trouble finding things to investigate around here. I'm going to take off now. You get some rest and be ready to work hard tomorrow, okay?"

"Sure. But what do I do if I need help?"

"There's a call button here on the table. Let me show you." She took his hand and placed it on the box so he'd know where to reach if he couldn't see. His muscles would remember the gesture longer than his brain would the sight, one of the many tricks of a physical therapist.

"All right, thanks. Say, Eileen, you are going to keep my—our—secret, aren't you?"

"Sure. At least I won't tell anyone. But if your guys spend much time here everyone's going to find out. It's written all over all of your faces."

"Oh. Gee, I hadn't thought of that. At home everyone's kind of used to us. They just think we're—odd."

"Well, like I said, this is a safe place. I don't think anyone would mind." This time she did pat his shoulder, just once, and took note of his grateful expression. What an extraordinary little man, she thought, and looked forward to knowing him better.

***

Nick and Cody returned with all kinds of things intended to make Murray feel more at home. They put him into his pajamas, handling his hurt leg very gently but not being too careful anymore about not giving him an erection. He enjoyed the touch of their hands, their tender caresses and randomly placed kisses, but he was still too tired and hurt to have much interest in more. He hoped that would change soon, and that they'd have enough privacy to do something about it, but today he was happy just to be teased a little.

When he was comfortable, they went to work decorating his room. Nick had the Mimi radio that he'd given Murray a few months ago, during the Technotrend debacle, and Cody brought a photo of the Riptide to hang on the wall. They even brought Murray's little space shuttle and put it on the table close to his bed, like he did at home. Or had done. Most of his things were still in his room and he often napped there while he was working, but at night he slept with Nick and Cody in the aft cabin and they weren't too keen on toys in their room. At least not that kind.

"This is really neat, guys," he said sleepily. "You didn't have to go to so much trouble, though."

"Of course we did. So, are they going to let us stay the night?" Nick asked as he put Murray's clothes in the dresser.

"I don't know. Eileen said you'd have to leave by ten, but they might make an exception for the first night. They're going to let me eat in my room just this once, but tomorrow I have to eat with the patients and watch TV with them after. I hate watching TV with other people. They'll make me watch football or something."

"It's summer, Boz. You'll be out of here long before football season."

"Whatever. Did you bring any of my books?"

"Tons. And I talked to Melba this morning. She's flying in tomorrow to see you."

"Baba? Oh, that's nice. You must have gone to a lot of trouble to find her."

"I didn't. I put your mom on it the day after you got shot. She really wishes she could come, but with her arthritis…"

"I know, it's terrible. Poor Mama. I can't stop thinking how worried she must be."

"No, Boz, she's okay," Cody said quickly. "She's a little worried, but we didn't really tell her how bad it was. In fact, she thinks we're up here for a vacation while you recover."

"You lied to my mother? Cody, how could you? How would you like it if I lied to your mother?"

"If I almost die twice in two days, I hope you do. Now settle down before you hurt yourself."

"Yeah, we wouldn't want to have to restrain you," Nick said, tucking a folded square of silk into his hand; his favorite scarf, his favorite toy. Murray didn't know if it was a reminder or a promise. Or maybe a blankey to help him sleep.

"You guys aren't funny." But he was laughing and they laughed with him.

***

An administrator came by before dinner to have Murray sign some papers. He made the executive decision to allow one of his friends to spend the night, and Nick and Cody nearly came to blows over who it should be. Murray said he didn't care which but as the argument went on, becoming increasingly esoteric and strange, as their fights always were, his true feelings showed plainly in his eyes.

"All right, all right," Cody said, finally seeing the truth. "You're right. It's my boat, I should probably stay out there. God knows I can't trust you with it anyway."

"Isn't that just like you. All you care about's that stupid boat."

"Hey, you won, give me a break." He cut his eyes at Nick, stopping him cold. Murray wanted him and Cody was trying to bow out. It was an incredible gesture that left Nick deeply ashamed. He wasn't sure he would have been able to do it if Murray had chosen differently, and that made him feel unworthy to be chosen.

"Yeah, sorry. I'd say it's been a long day, but it's been long for your guys, too."

"It's okay. If we'd brought your stupid helicopter you'd be sleeping in it." He made a conciliatory move toward his friend and Nick pulled him into a hug. Murray smiled and held out his hand. Cody stepped over to take it, lifted it to his lips and kissed the long fingers softly. His mustache tickled and for a second Murray felt weak.

"You—I love you guys," he whispered. "You're so nice to me."

"Ah fuck," Cody sighed, kissing his hand again. He laid it down on the bed and turned away.

"What—Cody, what's wrong? What did I say?"

"Nothing," Nick told him, sitting down on the bed. "You didn't say anything. Cody's just being a big girl."

"You can be nice to me but not each other?"

"We're nice to you because you deserve it. When Cody deserves it, I'll be nice to him, too." He leaned over, raised Murray's glasses and kissed the corner of his half closed eye, just where he liked it best.

"He deserves it," Murray said sleepily. "Be nice to him, Nick, please."

"I love it when you beg."

Murray blushed, his cheeks burning red in his pale face. Nick loved that, too.

"I can't help thanking you for taking such good care of me. For being so—loyal. I was so cruel before—the things I said…"

"No," Nick said, more sharply than he'd intended. "Don't talk about that anymore. I'd say you were forgiven but there was never anything to forgive, okay?"

He nodded rather vaguely, lost in thought. Nick assumed he was just sleepy but after a moment he spoke.

"Guys, who's paying for this? The flight nurse said something about the helicopter being expensive and the insurance not covering it. You didn't hawk your stuff again, did you?"

"No, no," Nick said gently. "All of King Harbor chipped in. You're a popular guy, Boz."

"I am? Since when?"

"I don't know. To tell you the truth, I was a little surprised myself. Every business put out coffee cans to collect change and the school had a bake sale. The police department paid for the helicopter, though. They held an auction and unloaded a bunch of impounded cars."

"The police department? Why would they do that?"

"Probably has something to do with Quinlan having a monster hard on for you," Nick grinned. Cody stuck his finger down his throat and pretended to gag.

"What?"

"It's this stupid idea Nick has about Quinlan liking you."

"Oh. Well, he does."

"What?" Nick and Cody said in unison, as if it had never occurred to either of them, even though they brought it up.

"Turns out he does. Not like that, though. He doesn't want to sleep with me. I just remind him of—someone."

"Get serious. Who? And how do you know that?"

"He told me. I don't think he wants people to know. The person I remind him of, it was someone he loved but didn't always respect. Now he's dead and Quinlan can't make up for it."

"That's the saddest thing I've heard all day. Cody, doesn't that break your heart?"

"Into a million little pieces," he said wryly. "But that doesn't answer my question: how do you know?"

"I just said, he told me. The last time I saw him, the night after my second surgery. He came into my room while you were out."

"He snuck into your room again and told you that you reminded him of someone he loved? My God, Nick. You might be onto something."

"He didn't use the word love or anything. He still talked like Quinlan. But I know what he meant."

"You give people too much credit, Boz. You think everyone has a heart."

"Almost everyone does. Remember how respectful he was to my friend Angelo?"

"I remember he called you a goofball in taped glasses."

"Lighten up, Cody. If Quinlan got me here by helicopter instead of making me spend the whole morning on the freeway, then he's all right by me."

"You know, the next time he's got us sitting in jail on some trumped up charges, I'm gonna remember you said that."

"I know, Nick. And I love you anyway."


	2. Faith

Cody stayed until nine, eating dinner with them and watching the little TV the electronics store had donated. When he kissed them goodnight and went back to the boat, he thought he'd quite possibly never been so alone in his life. It was so much worse than sleeping alone when Murray was in the hospital in LA. The drive was longer, but the harbor was home. He had the familiarity of the Contessa next door and notes and phone messages from concerned friends. He always stopped by _Straightaway's_ to have a single beer and let people know how the day went, and sometimes someone would come over to the boat if he sat up late with the lights on. In Pine Harbor he could sit up all night, but no one would know what it meant or drop in to check on him. He wasn't sure he'd want company anyway.

Normally Cody liked meeting strangers and making friends, but now he didn't want to talk to anyone who didn't already know Murray. He was in no mood for people who didn't feel his pain or share his fears. They would say they understood, maybe tell him about a similar experience with a friend or loved one, but unless they actually knew the shy, fragile man, it wasn't the same. No two people ever experienced anything in exactly the same way and Cody was becoming increasingly hostile to anyone who didn't seem to know that.

He let himself onto the boat and went straight down to the galley. There was beer in the fridge but he didn't want that tonight. He poured a glass of vodka and took it to bed.

***

"I'm so glad they let you stay," Murray said quietly. "I know you'd probably rather be at home with Cody but—it really means a lot to me."

"I know that. And there's no place else I'd rather be. You think we could enjoy ourselves knowing you were here all alone?"

"Actually, yes, I think you could," he said with a sly smile. "So you must have really wanted to stay."

"Yeah, I did. So did Cody, but we kind of got the feeling you wanted me." There was a cot set up against the wall but Nick slid into Murray's bed, enveloping him carefully in a warm embrace. Murray sighed comfortably, sinking into the strong arms.

"I do. I hope Cody's not hurt. It isn't that I didn't want him, it's just that you—you talk more. And he seemed so angry about the Quinlan thing. I didn't want him picking at me."

"Well, we're both a little baffled by that. But it doesn't surprise me that anyone would want you."

"You're just saying that."

"Okay, but it doesn't surprise me that Quinlan would. He seems like the kind of guy who'd like a sweet little submissive."

"I think so, too. But it isn't about that, really. He just feels bad about a geek he used to know."

"I can't believe you're keeping this a secret. From us. For Quinlan." He was laughing but Murray heard real hurt underneath.

"It's pretty personal to him, Nick. And he was so nice to me, I think he'd really be hurt. Just trust me, he isn't gay and he isn't into me."

"The geek was family, wasn't he?"

"I—if I say yes will you let it go?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm letting it go. Are you looking forward to starting therapy tomorrow?"

"I'm scared. Eileen did some strength tests this afternoon and I didn't do very well. It was pretty painful."

"In football they used to tell us no pain, no gain."

"She said that, too. It didn't exactly thrill me. In fact, it kind of made me think of one time in high school when I was ten years old and the gym teacher was shouting it right before I fell off the pommel horse and broke my arm."

"They made you take gym with high school kids when you were ten?"

"What else could they do? I was in high school; they couldn't give me special treatment."

Nick kissed his ear softly and Murray felt him smile.

"You deserve it, though. I wish everyone knew that. Everyone should treat you special."

"Everyone should be nicer to everyone else. But if they were we'd be out of a job, I guess. I love my job. I've had a lot of jobs but it's the only one I ever really loved."

"I feel the same way. Cody and me, we used to worry about not growing up. Like living on the boat and doing what we pleased made us immature or something. But since you came along we don't worry about that anymore. We're where we want to be, where we want to grow old. Cody wants to die on that boat and I hope he does. He doesn't need a house and a wife to be a grown up."

"I used to think I did. But I feel more like a man sleeping with you than I ever did with a girl. Sometimes I still feel like I don't measure up to you guys, but you never treat me that way. Well, hardly ever."

"Hardly—what's that mean?"

"You always say you'll explain stuff later but you never do. Sometimes you still treat me like a kid."

"We like you that way. If you were too sophisticated you wouldn't be our sweet little Murray."

"You play bondage games with me and you won't explain a dirty joke?"

"Playing games doesn't corrupt your mind. And you never explained that pie joke. I still think that was all a big conspiracy."

"Yes, Nick. Everyone in King Harbor was in on it."

"That's what I thought. You'll probably have everyone here in on it by tomorrow, huh?"

"Probably. Nick, what's going to happen to me if this turns out to be like gym class? What if they try to make me do things I can't do?"

"Well, Eileen said it was about getting back what you lost, right? I think they just want to help you to walk."

"But what if I can't do that anymore? What if I'd have to be able to do sit ups or something? What if they want me to build muscle?"

"I think Eileen's probably pretty good at her job, Boz. We checked around and this place is one of the best. And in Santa Monica that's saying something, because there are a ton of hospitals and medical centers and everything else around here. We could have stayed in LA but everyone said this place was better."

"Wow, really? You guys uprooted your whole lives for something we could have done at home?"

"We wanted you to have the best."

"But why? I'm sure I could learn to walk in any competent institution. It's not like I'm an athlete or anything."

"No, but you're not average, either. Boz, I love you, but you're clumsy as hell. If you're going to get around on the boat without breaking your neck, you need the best training you can get."

"Yeah. It'll take me forever to get my sea legs back. I wonder how we'll do that?"

"Well, we're hoping we can take you out to the boat to practice sometimes. Show Eileen what your daily life is like so she knows what you need."

"Oh, yes, that's a very good idea. I'd feel a lot better if I could just see the _Riptide_ again. Sometimes it's hard to believe it's still out there, waiting for me. These days it almost seems like something I dreamed."

"Yeah? We didn't know you felt that way."

"It's okay. The picture helps. And I'm really glad you guys are coming to my therapy session tomorrow. You will be there, won't you?"

"Sure we will. Cody's coming in early and I'm not going home at all. We've even got your outfit all picked out, too."

"Oh, gosh, nothing too fancy, I hope."

"No? You think white tie and tails is too much?"

"For the first day, yeah. But maybe a sport coat…"

"You're a funny guy, Murray. But don't worry. We're gonna take good care of you."

"You always do. You're so good to me."

"Hey, no more of that. I'm tired of you feeling like you owe us when we just give you what you deserve. You've got enough to worry about without this obsessive gratitude."

"Whatever you say, Nick. I think I'm going to sleep anyway. It's been almost two weeks, but I don't seem to have any morphine tolerance yet."

"That's okay. You go ahead and sleep, little guy. I'll be awake for a while yet, keeping watch."

"Thanks. I love you so much, Nick."

"Love you too, Boz." He stroked Murray's hair back softly, trailing one finger down the planes of his cheek, relaxing him gently into sleep. Nick stayed awake a lot longer, listening to the evening sounds of the facility, checking everything out to make sure there was nothing that might frighten Murray during the sleepless nights that were sure to follow. He heard a janitor rolling a mop bucket down the tiled hall and the occasional sound of tennis shoes moving at a quicker pace. In the wee, still hours, he heard patients snoring and coughing in the rooms on either side and wondered what those people would be like. Would they be nice to Murray or was rehab going to be high school all over again? Everything he'd read, everyone he'd talked to, told him this was the place to be. But he'd never asked if the patients were nice.

***

Murray's first sight of the therapy room turned him pale. If he could have, he'd have turned and run back to his room, but Eileen was pushing the wheelchair and she was too strong.

"You okay, Boz?"

He grabbed Cody's hand and squeezed too hard.

"Hey, hold up a minute. What is it, Murray?"

Eileen eased them over to the side, out of the way, so he could take it all in. There were eight patients in the room, each with a therapist at his or her side, all sweating and groaning except one young man who openly wept as he squeezed a rubber ball in his fist.

"I don't want to go in there," Murray whispered. "I don't need to be able to walk. I just want to go home."

"I know it seems bad," Eileen said gently, "but it's not really. They're just working hard, getting what they want. It might look like torture but they're doing it to themselves."

"I don't want to torture myself. I hate pain. Look, it's not like I'm in custody, right?" he said, starting to babble. "I don't have to—guys, help me out. I don't have to do this if I don't want to, right? Guys?"

"I'm afraid so, Boz." Nick crouched beside him, gripping his other hand. "You can't just quit. I know you hate pain, everyone knows that, but you've never been a quitter. How many times have you run headlong into gunfire or jumped on some goon three times your size?"

"I did those things to help you."

"Yeah, and if you don't do this, you'll never be able to help us like that again. You won't be able to climb into the _Mimi_, let alone leap out into a moving speedboat or onto a running horse or what-the-hell-ever our next case involves. If you can't do it for yourself, then do it for us."

"He's right, Murray. There's no other way." Cody hated himself for it, hated that he couldn't hug his friend and kiss away the harsh words, and hated even more what he had to say next. "You have to do it, babe. You've always wanted to be like us and this—this is what we'd do. We'd do it for you, you know."

He nodded, his throat working as he swallowed a sob. They would not see him cry.

"All right, Eileen, what do we do first?"

She put him on a mat by the window and Nick held him up while she stretched his leg. His determination not to cry was broken in a minute, and two minutes after that, he was screaming.

"Can we take a little break?" Cody asked, wiping the sweat off his own forehead. He was suddenly very glad that Nick had beat him to the spot on the floor.

"Sure. Murray, why don't you lie back and rest a second while I get you some weights."

"Weights? Did she say weights?" He collapsed in Nick's arms, rubbing his eyes under his glasses.

"She said weights."

"I hope she's going to tie them to my legs and throw me in the bay."

Nick and Cody caught each other's eyes over his head and one word passed between them. _Janie_.

"Come on, buddy. Let's just see how this goes." Nick laid him down and held his head in his lap. He took off Murray's glasses, wiped his face tenderly, and put them back on.

"I knew it was going to be just like gym class. You guys might want to leave before someone comes in and starts snapping me with a wet towel."

"No way. We have an all day pass today and we're using it. Right, Cody?"

"Yeah, right. You'll be on your own soon enough."

Before breakfast, that was the worst thing Murray could imagine. Now all he wanted was to be left alone to fall apart without having to be ashamed. It was the first time he'd ever not wanted them around.

"You're going to need upper body strength to get on your feet," Eileen said cheerfully, returning to his side with a pair of free weights. "I want to start you off with the two pounders. Spread your arms out and curl them to your chest. Just five reps, it won't be hard."

"I'm not good with weights. Once I dropped a barbell on my neck."

"That's not going to happen. Here, just five curls."

He obeyed, straining a little at the third and groaning at the fourth. After the fifth his chest was on fire and he was nearly in tears again.

"You really think this is going to help?" he panted. "Because I'm not so sure that…"

"I do," she interrupted firmly. "Rest five minutes and then we're going again. Tomorrow you'll do six and when you get to ten we'll move you up to the four pounders."

"Great. Something to look forward to." He fell back and let the weights roll away. "Eileen, I'm really in a lot of pain."

"Let's get through the next five reps and then I'll see if you can have a pill."

He nodded, looking weak and hopeless. Cody turned toward the window, high enough to see the harbor, and tried to make out his boat. Tried to block out the sounds of Murray grunting and, finally, sobbing with the effort of pleasing them. The next time he let go of the weights, Eileen didn't fetch them back.

"Okay, take a break. I'll go see the charge nurse about that pill."

As soon as she was gone, Murray craned his head back and smiled weakly at Nick.

"Maybe you guys should go. You can come back after lunch when I'm feeling human again."

Nick sat him up and whispered softly in his ear, "If I can tie you up and hit you until you scream I can watch you lift weights. Just this once, at least."

"I don't want to lose your respect."

"That's not possible, Boz. We're always going to respect you. So long as you keep trying, that is. Right, Cody?"

"You bet," he said, not turning around. Cody wanted to go home.

***

After Murray took the codeine tablet, things got a little better. Eileen set him up with a pulley to do a few sit ups and it wasn't quite the horror show he expected. Then she put him on a recumbent bicycle machine and let him work his good leg for a while. It was possibly the easiest thing he'd done since getting shot, but no one mentioned how sore he'd be in the morning.

"This isn't so bad," he told her, his soft eyes glazed a little by drugs and pain.

"You'll like it even better in a couple days when you get your stitches out and we put you in the pool."

He smiled, but Nick and Cody were concerned.

"The pool? Murray can't swim," Nick said, trying not to laugh.

"Sure I can. I just can't float."

"Okay, so what's the difference? It's still dangerous."

"Are they always like this?" Eileen asked Murray with a wink.

"Sometimes they're worse. Guys, the whole point of this place is working with handicapped people. They aren't going to let me drown."

"So what're you gonna do, put water wings on him?"

"Yes, probably. Have you had enough, Murray?"

"Yeah. But I thought it was supposed to be four hours."

"It will be, but you don't want to overdo on your first day. I want to give you a good rubdown, too, so you won't hurt too much tomorrow."

Back in his room, she let Nick help him shower and move him to the bed. Murray was tired and nervous in just his boxers, wanting desperately to be left alone. But his day was just getting started. He closed his eyes as Eileen peeled off his thick bandages, the tape loosened by the shower. The incisions were mostly healed, the skin still red around the stitches but no longer swollen and angry. They should still be kept dry so they wouldn't tighten up, but she wasn't worried about infection anymore.

Eileen covered her hands with a biting liniment and went to work, starting with his arms and moving briskly across his chest. She skirted the ragged exit wound that lay midpoint between his breastbone and navel, but not by much, and he winced. When her fingers dug into his meatless thigh he groaned, low and terrible.

"Are you making it hurt on purpose?" he whispered and was a little frightened when she didn't smile.

"I bet it seems like it. But no, I'm just trying to get the blood flowing before you cramp up. Believe me, you might not like the prevention, but the cure's even worse."

His right leg was a lot harder. The inner thigh was a twisted road map of stitches through valleys and over mountains. She was gentler there, but not so gentle as he might have liked, and Nick held his hand as he wept. Eventually someone fed him another pill and he was almost able to forget what was happening.

Big hands turned him over, Nick's maybe, and then Eileen's smaller fingers were digging at him again. The pain in his back was tremendous and when she finished it was worse. He hurt in places he hadn't even felt before, his whole upper body throbbing like one big solid bruise. But when he tried to move he found that his muscles were looser and it wasn't that hard. Nick helped him turn over again and his back felt as bruised as his chest, but he still knew something good had been done. He could feel it.

"Lunch is in half an hour. Can I trust you two to get him dressed and down to the dining room by then?"

"Yes ma'am," Nick grinned. "Cody, get his T shirt."

They put him in a clean pair of sweatpants and his Property of King Harbor Police Department shirt, over his mild protests. He wanted to comb his wet hair, but Cody messed it up with his fingers and said if he fixed it they'd leave. Murray never quite saw what it was about himself that they found so attractive, especially when his hair was a mess, but their smiles were sincere. If they said he was pretty, so be it.

Cody was lifting him into his chair when Eileen opened the door a crack and said he had another guest. The three of them looked at each other like fools, wondering if Melba had somehow gotten in early, and if not, who else would come all this way.

"Just five minutes, though. He needs to get to lunch on time." She disappeared and the door swung open.

"I don't want to keep you girls from your lunch date," Quinlan said cheerfully. "Better finish putting your faces on."

"Lieutenant, what are you doing here?" Murray squeaked, his eyes strangely bright.

Quinlan gave Nick and Cody a narrow look and jerked his head toward the door.

"It looks like you've got a lot to talk about," Nick grinned. "We'll just go wait in the hall. Lieutenant, try to keep your hands to yourself."

"Get out of here, Ryder. Don't you have anything better to do?"

"Don't you?" But he was already heading for the door. "Just yell if he gets too handsy, Boz."

Quinlan didn't speak again until they were alone. The sight of Murray in a wheelchair unnerved him more than he'd expected and he needed the time to gather his thoughts. It was easier in the hospital, in the dark, when he couldn't see the pain filled eyes so easily. When pain was to be expected. Somehow he'd thought that getting this far meant the pain was behind him, but here the little geek was, as hurt as ever and twice as thin.

"How're you doing, Bozinsky?"

"Not bad, Lieutenant. Thanks for asking. I had my first therapy session this morning and it didn't kill me, so that's a good sign."

"Must not have been too hard, then."

"No, I don't think it was," he said thoughtfully, entirely missing the joke. "I think it's going to get a lot worse in a few days."

"Well, I'm sure you'll make it. You've gotten this far."

"Yes. Yes, I'm sure I will." He faltered, reached for the rims of his lightweight wheelchair, and tried to reposition himself to better advantage. "So what brings you all the way up here? It's quite a drive, uh, from LA, isn't it?"

"King Harbor wanted to know what it was getting for its money and they elected me to come find out. Are they—they treating you all right?"

"It's okay. The food's pretty good and I—I like my therapist. Mostly, though, I just want to go home. I'd almost rather be in jail in King Harbor. But I really appreciate what everybody did for me. Will you tell them that? I had no idea anyone would even notice I was gone and here you had fundraisers and everything. I don't know how I'll ever thank everyone."

"Forget it. Just get well and come home. Things are getting dull without you troublemakers. Why, it's been almost three weeks since anyone shot up the harbor. Seems like if the _Riptide_'s not there, it just isn't worth doing."

"I'd think the other residents would be glad to finally get a full night's sleep."

"Oh, I'm sure they are. Anyway, I can't stay. Got a lot of business while I'm in town. Let us know when you're coming home so we can get the big cell ready." He clapped Murray on the shoulder hard enough to knock his glasses askew and turned away.

"I—I will. Thanks for coming, Lieutenant." He almost said it was good to see him and then didn't, even though it was. Murray knew he was dying of homesickness when Quinlan could move him to tears. He remembered that cool rough hand on his forehead in the dark of night and wanted to grab him before he got away. But he just sat there in the chair that he wasn't yet strong enough to move and accepted Quinlan's insulting goodbye. He wouldn't see him again until he went home.

***

Melba dropped in after lunch and did as much to lift her little Scooter's spirits as anyone could. She drained his energy badly, but he was too happy to care. When he fell asleep during one of her stories, she turned to teasing Nick and Cody. They still competed for her attention, still insulted each other and jockeyed for position, but she no longer believed it. She flirted and joked, but the way they kept looking to her sleeping brother told her that she didn't have what they wanted anymore. Suddenly she wondered if she ever had.

The guys took her back to the boat at dinnertime and an aide took Murray to the dining room. She put him next to the young man who'd been weeping over his handball that morning and went to get his plate.

"Hi," he said shyly. "I'm Murray Bozinsky."

"I know. My name's Travis Kerensky. My therapist pointed you out."

"Oh. Why—why did she do that?"

"They like to get us all on the same team. You know, pulling together, supporting each other. But you're kind of famous, too. I play your games all the time. Or I used to, at least."

"Really? Oh, that's nice. I always like to meet fans. So, if you don't mind my asking, what—uh—brings you here?"

"I broke my neck trying to commit suicide," he said flatly. "They didn't tell you that?"

"Well, actually, they did. They just didn't tell me it was you. I—I'm very sorry."

"It was my own fault. My boyfriend dumped me and I didn't know what to do. Stupidly, I didn't think things could get any worse."

"Oh. Oh, your—uh—boyfriend?"

"Gay bashing's not allowed here," he said automatically.

"Oh. No, no, I wouldn't. I guess that's why my therapist wanted me to meet you."

"Why, are you single?"

"Well, no. But it's good to have friends you don't have to—you know—hide stuff from."

"So which one are you with?"

"Hmm?"

"Those two guys who were in therapy with you. You're dating one of them, right? So which one?"

"I—I live with both of them. They were lovers when we met and they just sort of—took me in, in every way. We work together and—and they're just the best friends anybody ever had. I wouldn't have made it through this without them."

"You're a lucky guy then. How long have you all been shacking up?" He looked faintly disbelieving and Murray didn't know what kind of answer to give. It was his way to try and give people what they wanted, but he'd never been in quite this situation before.

"A couple years. Almost two and a half." He wondered if that was too long or not long enough.

"That's pretty good. I lived with a couple guys once, in the seventies, when it was safer, but there were too many head games. When it comes to jealousy, guys are worse than girls."

"Yeah, I know. I kept seeing girls for a while, off and on, but it was—well, it was too much trouble. I get everything I need at home anyway."

"I bet you do," he said with a knowing smile that made Murray blush dark red. Suddenly Travis could see what the two beach babes liked about the skinny guy. That had been bothering him, but he couldn't figure out exactly how to ask. Changing the subject he said, "They say you got shot. That must have sucked."

"Hmm. Yes, I suppose. But I've always wondered why people use that term. Isn't sucking rather a good thing?"

"I wondered about that, too. You're not paralyzed, though? You're going to walk?"

"Oh yes. My leg's torn up some but it's healing. Since we live on a boat, I have to be able to walk before I go home. There's no room for wheelchairs or exercise on board."

"I'm hoping I can learn to feed myself," Travis said, sounding a little bitter for the first time. "Then my parents are taking me home."

"I—I'm sorry. I guess it's going to be pretty hard."

He laughed, the bitterness more pronounced.

"I don't know if it'll ever be hard again."

Murray paused, wanting to ask what that meant, and was forestalled by the aides returning with their food. He hunched over his plate, his back aching, and tried not to watch the other aide feeding Travis. Then he realized he was trying too hard not to watch and put his efforts into relaxing. But that wasn't easy, either. He was one of only two people feeding themselves, and everywhere he looked he felt like he was invading someone's privacy. Somehow he hadn't noticed that so much when the guys were with him. Sighing, he put down his fork and covered his eyes with both hands.

"Murray, you okay?" It was his aide, standing just behind him with her hand on his shoulder.

"I'm not very hungry."

"Well, I'm afraid you don't have much choice. The dietician laid out your minimum requirements and this is it. If you don't eat it, they'll stick a tube up your nose in the morning. I've been encouraged to push dessert on you, too. There's fudge cake."

"A tube up my nose, huh?"

"If you eat less than this, you won't be able to keep up with your therapy. And you don't want tube feeding, trust me."

"No, no, I guess I don't want that." He finished the chicken and salad but the potatoes defeated him. They weren't real and he'd never been able to stomach instant spuds. The aide understood and brought him two pieces of cake.

***

"So I bet a big time nerd like you plays chess," Travis said when the aide rolled Murray over to his table in the living room after dinner.

"As a matter of fact, I was president of my chess club all three years of high school."

"Three years?"

"Well, I skipped the ninth grade. Though I regret it sometimes. Thirteen was too young to go away to college. I think at sixteen I would have been better prepared."

"You're making that up."

"What? No, why would I…"

"You're trying to psych me out so I'll lose. Sorry, Bozinsky. I know you're a super brain and all, but I'm not falling for that."

"No, really," he laughed, setting up the board. "I went to MIT when I was thirteen. I thought you knew who I was."

"Well, I know your name. I guess I did expect you to be older. You can't be more than thirty-five."

"I'm thirty-three. Do you want to be black or white?"

"White. You'll have to move for me, though. Thank God you'll at least know the names of the pieces; I won't have to go through the whole _no, the horsey one_ thing."

"No, I'm quite well versed." Murray played fairly and even pointed out a bad move before Travis made it, but he still beat his new friend easily, with only one eye on the board. The other was watching the clock, waiting for it to be time for the guys to come back. He wanted to be undressed and tucked into bed, held and petted and told how brave he was. He was tired of actually _being_ brave for the day and would need a lot of praise in order to start over tomorrow. He couldn't imagine how Travis managed to get up every day.

"You bastard," Travis said, making him jump. Could he read minds? "How'd you do that? You'd have had me in five if you hadn't kept me from losing my bishop."

"Oh. I don't know, I guess it's as much a matter of memory as it is intellect—that and having read all of the—the standard texts…That wasn't what you meant, was it?"

"No, I was just messing with you, dude. I'll chalk it up to you being older than me and let it go this once. You want to play again?"

"Sure. Sure, I'd like that."

He kept winning, but it got harder and harder as the clock edged toward eight. Finally, at five minutes to, he lost his first game. After that he didn't want to play again and Travis thought he was just a bad loser. He kept watching the clock until eight, and then began watching the door.

"Your friends coming back, Bozinsky?"

"Yeah. They said they'd be here by eight."

"You really think your relationship's going to survive all this?" Travis asked, not unkindly.

"Well, yes. Why not?"

"Well," he mimicked, a little less kindly, "because they still have each other, don't they? Don't you think after a few days, or weeks, they'll decide it's easier to just stay on the boat?"

"I—I don't know." His eyes flickered uncertainly between the door and Travis's knowing expression. "No, they won't desert me. They went to so much trouble to be here. If they were going to dump me, they could have done it in LA, or sent me up here alone."

"Wait and see. You have a lot more friends at the start than you do at the finish, believe me."

"Is that what happened to you?" he asked quietly. "Did you lose your friends?"

"Of course I did. They came to visit at first, but they have their own lives. My brother got married last month and was I there? No, I was here, eating dog food and pissing in my bed."

Murray swallowed hard and looked to the door again. As if in answer to his prayer, it swung open and there they were.

"Hey Boz. How're you doing?" Cody asked, leaning over his shoulder. "It's been almost three hours, did you miss us?"

"Yeah," he whispered. "You're six minutes late. I was getting worried."

"Well, let's go back to your room and catch up."

"Sure. But first, guys, this is Travis Kerensky. He plays chess, too."

"I lose at chess, he means," Travis said.

"Everyone loses against Murray. I'm Nick Ryder and this is Cody Allen. Pleased to meet you."

Travis gave them a sardonic smile, understanding their impatience and trying to sympathize. But it had been a long time since anyone had looked at him that way and he didn't expect anyone ever would again. Murray said goodnight and he said it back, trying not to sound any more bitter than he had to. Cody didn't like it and hustled Murray out the door before it got worse.

"So you're making friends already?" Nick asked, lifting him into bed.

"He's okay. His boyfriend left him when he got hurt and he's kind of depressed. He's a decent chess player, though."

"You don't look as happy as you usually do after you beat someone."

"He—he says you guys are going to leave me. That I won't have any friends by the time I get well. If I get well. He wasn't very encouraging."

"But you don't believe that, do you?" Cody sat down and eased Murray's shirt off over his head. "Because I don't want to live a month in a strange harbor for a guy who doesn't even believe in me. Not to mention the crappy job we took."

"What job?"

Nick pushed him down on his back and held him while Cody took off his pants.

"Come on, guys, what job?" But Nick was kissing him, Cody was tickling his ribs, and pretty soon he'd forgotten the question. Hands wandered up and down his body, missing his wounds without being obvious about it. He felt lips on his throat, his shoulders, in the hollows of his collarbones. Someone took off his glasses and he moaned softly in surrender. He wasn't sure whose mouth was on his cock until he tasted Nick's tongue, gently parting his lips.

Together they overwhelmed him, kissing and biting, Nick's hands on his shoulders, holding him down. Murray grabbed his upper arms, long fingers digging into the hard muscle. Cody sucked him long and hard, teasing his most sensitive spots unmercifully, secretly pleased at how long it was taking. He didn't know that it was the drugs, or that Murray was close to falling asleep. It was Nick's hand pinching his nipple that pushed him over the edge and Nick's tongue that stifled his ecstatic cry.

Murray closed his eyes, smiling dopily as they washed him and dressed him in clean pajamas. He roused himself a little when they climbed into his bed, unsure which way to lean until Cody slipped an arm around his shoulders. He snuggled into the warmth and kissed Cody's neck softly.

"I should do something for you guys," he murmured. "I've missed you so much."

"You're not even awake, Boz," Cody laughed. "Wait until we get you back to the boat and then you can return the favor."

"You're so good to me. You won't leave, will you?"

"Of course not, Murray. Don't even think about that because it's not going to happen. And if that Travis guy keeps working on your head like this I'm going to have to have a talk with him."

"Stop it, Nick. He's just sad and scared. He doesn't have much to look forward to. Now tell me about your job."

"It's no big deal. We're doing security on the pier while we're here in exchange for slip fees and a little grocery money. They've been having a lot of burglaries lately."

"How're you handling it? Are you using my cameras like we did during the Pier 56 robberies?"

"Yeah. We just have to get back by dark and watch til dawn."

"When do you sleep?"

"Here and there. We'll sleep in tomorrow and come see you after lunch, okay?"

He nodded sleepily, barely able to keep his eyes open. It was better not to have them there for therapy anyway. He would feel more free to scream when he needed to.

"I know you'll come back," he whispered. "I won't lose faith."


End file.
